Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
by redcognito
Summary: Matt shares the holiday season with Stefan.


Disclaimers: Vampire Diaries, L.J. Smith's, etc etc

Notes: Written for the 2004 LJSanta. The cheese! The cheese! Matt/Stefan friendship, no real slash. Though, like, feel free to read between the lines or something. ;)

--

He'd seen many strange things in his long life, but what greeted his gaze when he opened the front door of the boarding house had to be one of the most ridiculous -- yet somehow warming -- sights Stefan had ever seen.

Matt stood on the step, snow falling thickly behind him, illuminated by the porch light. There was a huge grin plastered on his face, his cheeks almost as red from chill as the bright santa hat that was wedged firmly on his head.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas," Matt began singing, slightly off-key. "Let your heart be light. From now on our troubles will be out of sight…" he trailed off, and winked at Stefan. "I'll spare your sensitive ears from me butchering the rest of the song. I'm sure you get the idea."

Stefan felt a smile tugging at his lips as he stepped aside to let Matt in. His human friend seemed to have a knack for making him do that with the smallest of things. It was something he treasured greatly, as he'd long thought he'd forgotten how to smile.

"The niblets have all gone to bed, and it's just my parents and relatives getting drunk and playing cheesy games at home. Thought I might spread some of my festive cheer and spend the rest of the evening keeping you company," Matt said, stamping his feet to dislodge the snow from his boots before entering.

"It's… appreciated. Your company is always welcome." He flashed a small smile at Matt as he took his coat to hang up.

Matt returned the smile cheerfully, then looked around as he began to take off his boots (Mrs Flowers had commented on several occasions on what good manners that Matt boy had), peering into the silent sitting room. "Mrs Flowers not about?"

"No," Stefan replied, "She's spending the holiday with family."

Matt paused in the middle of untying his laces, blinking in surprise. "She has family?"

"Apparently."

Stefan had felt much the same way as Matt did when Mrs Flowers had announced she was to be whisked away by her 'dear young niece' the day before. Stefan had been surprised when the young niece turned out to be at least sixty years old, and vaguely wondered what age that made Mrs Flowers. He'd never suspected she'd had any family, assuming instead that she lived in the old boarding house living out her days being mysterious and doing unknown things down in the basement. Really, it went to show that he probably knew less about Mrs Flowers than she did about him.

"Shall we go up to my room?" He'd have offered the sitting room, but it didn't seem right to intrude in Mrs Flowers' personal space when she wasn't there. Matt generally preferred Stefan's room when he visited anyway; he'd confided in Stefan that he was afraid he'd break some of the antiques that Mrs Flowers had dotted all over the place. There was nothing to break in Stefan's room, and he felt safe putting his feet on the bed.

Matt followed him as he led the way up to the attic. Stefan was amused to see that his friend's socks were thick and woolly, and covered with snowmen. It seemed he was taking this Christmas cheer thing seriously. Mrs Flowers had made the effort to make the boarding house festive; he'd even helped her by putting up holly and ivy in the hard to reach places. But his own attic room was its usual sparse self. He'd just hadn't seen the point in putting up decorations for a festival that he felt he had no good reason for celebrating.

Matt dumped his rucksack on the bed and quirked an eyebrow as he looked around. "Got any candles? They might cheer the place up a bit."

Stefan nodded and moved over to his dresser, rummaging in a drawer to find some that were suitable. He began lightning them while Matt wandered over to poke the television. It was an old, black and white set. It had been Mrs Flowers' until she'd finally given in to the temptation of technology and bought a colour set a few months before. Stefan rarely watched television, and only agreed to have it in his room so that he didn't offend the old lady. Now Matt stood there, industriously tuning it, and muttering under his breath about how the damned thing couldn't pick up a decent reception, and was probably older than he was.

Finally, he seemed satisfied that he'd found something watchable -- if a little fuzzy -- and flung himself back onto Stefan's bed. Stefan joined him, sitting towards the bottom with his legs tucked beneath him.

Matt plucked the santa hat off his head, and leaned over to squish it onto Stefan's. It ended up slightly askew, with the pompom bashing gently into his left eye. Matt snorted, obviously amused, and Stefan aimed a disgruntled glare at him.

"What? It makes you look more festive! And the candles are cool. More toasty," he said, rubbing his hands together. Stefan had to agree -- the soft, warm flicker of candlelight added life to the room. He glared half-heartedly at Matt once more, then sighed and flicked the pompom back. Wearing it seemed to make Matt happy, so he'd suffer the indignity.

"So," Matt began, pulling out several tubs of food from his rucksack, "Let's see what kind of Christmas feast Mom has packed for us, then."

Stefan shook his head, bemused. "Matt, I'm not big on eating."

"I know, I know. And to be honest, neither am I after the huge dinner I ate earlier. But mom thinks you're not eating enough, so you get a goody bag. Just nibble at anything that takes your fancy, keep her happy."

Stefan stared at Matt dubiously for a moment before opening up some of the tubs and cautiously nibbling at the contents. Past experience told him that Matt's mom's cooking was actually pretty good, and that ignoring her instructions was a bad idea. She'd scolded him the previous week for not wearing a warm enough jacket, and Stefan was still marvelling over the fact that despite the fact he was five hundred years old, the woman had somehow managed to provoke a wide- eyed 'yes, ma'am' reaction from him, and that somehow he'd ended up walking home in a spare winter coat that had been lurking in the Honeycutt closet for years. He'd filed that one away as some kind of mother thing, guessing that it didn't matter how old you were, good mothers commanded respect.

The food was, he discovered, certainly edible, good enough that he was tempted to sample some more. He peered into a few more tubs and sniffed experimentally at the contents. Absorbed in exploring he food, it took him a few moments to notice that Matt was fidgeting a little. He put the food down, and gave Matt his attention.

"I, um, got this," Matt said, almost shyly, pulling out a lumpy package and offering it to Stefan. "For you."

Hesitantly Stefan reached for it, then stared silently at the small parcel for a few moments, strangely overwhelmed. It wasn't the most neatly wrapped of gifts in the world, full of crinkles and creases, and taped up in odd places, patched in others. But that didn't matter to Stefan. It was perhaps the first real gift he'd had in... well, centuries. He'd never before been friends with anyone long enough to warrant such an action.

A pang of guilt suddenly rushed through him, "But I don't have anything for you..."

"Doesn't matter," Matt cut him off. "Never expected you to, and your friendship is what matters to me. Besides," he said, a grin on his face, "I already had presents today. I'm guessing this is your only one."

"No," he said softly, looking Matt in the eyes. "You on the doorstep in your silly hat was more than enough of a gift."

Matt shrugged, embarrassed. "Go on, open it."

Stefan turned his attention back to the parcel, squishing it experimentally, noting one side was soft, and the other hard. He hooked his thumb under a loosely fixed piece of paper, and ripped into the gift. Pulling the wrapping away, he stared at the gift in his lap. There were two of them.

Several emotions washed through him. The first was relief that Matt hadn't bought him anything expensive; he knew only too well that Matt's funds were limited, and that the boy could be stubborn to the point of unreasonable about paying his own way. The second was a sense of awe at the feelings behind the gifts. These were personal, gifts into which thought had been given, gifts from the heart.

The first was the soft item, and probably the reason that Matt had had some difficulty in wrapping the presents up neatly. It was a scarf, and one that Stefan recognised as Matt's favourite, knitted for him by his grandmother before she died. His eyes flew up to meet his friend's. "Matt... I can't. This means too much to you."

"That's why I want you to have it. It's not like you really need a scarf, being that you don't feel the cold so much. But I figured that you could wear it and feel more like you fit in. And because you don't actually need it... well, it should be special so you have a real reason to wear it." He stopped, looking helplessly at Stefan, and gave a little shrug. "I... just want you to have it."

Stefan held his gaze for a moment, and then slowly nodded, draping the scarf around his neck. It was soft, and warm, and it was infused with Matt's warm, musky scent. A very special gift indeed.

He turned his attention to the second object. It was a clip-frame, face down, and Stefan reached out and turned it over. His own image stared back at him, his forest green eyes reflecting the rare smile on his grimy face. Matt stood next to him, arm around his shoulder, his own face smeared with mud, laughing. They were in their football uniforms, after a match. He remembered that one of their team mates had been running around with a camera, taking shots of everyone as they celebrated their win. Stefan had been swept along with the moment, excited as everyone else, forgetting -- if only for a short while -- his true nature.

His fingers touched the glass reverently. It was a simple thing, a photograph, but it expressed so much; that he could be accepted, that he wasn't always the outsider, and that he had the one thing that had eluded him for centuries. True friendship.

"Matt... I..." He didn't know what to say to express what his gifts meant. Impulsively, he leaned forward, clasping his friend into a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered into his ear before releasing him. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Matt shrugged, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Heh, I'm glad you like them."

Things were silent between them for several moments, before Matt cast around for something to break it. "So, waddya want to do then? Watch television? Play cards?"

"Cards sound good," he responded, "there's a deck in my bedside drawer."

The night was spent in laughter as they played at cards, chattering idly about everything and nothing, and occasionally play-fighting when one of them made a blatant attempt to cheat. It was perhaps the best Christmas Stefan had experienced, better even than the grand parties that his father had thrown back when he was human. They'd lacked the warmth and simple comfort of human contact, of good will towards family and friends. Stefan soaked it in, determined to enjoy it while he could.

They ended up idly watching old comedy reruns on television, sprawled next to each other on the bed. Matt was obviously wiped out, and dozed off before too long. As his breathing slowed into the rhythm of peaceful sleep, his head resting lightly against Stefan's shoulder, Stefan fingered the tassels of the scarf idly. Raising it to his face, he allowed himself the indulgence of inhaling Matt's scent, hoping it would linger for a long while yet, and that Matt would be around for a lot longer.

Fin.


End file.
